Chapter 11 #2
Gaby would have pinched herself because being spanked while naked, with him fully clothed, seemed unreal. Yet another swat followed, heat spreading far beyond her skin.
Beneath her, the hard line of his arousal dug into her belly. Proof that this wasn’t a dream at all, and that he wasn’t immune to it either. That he still wanted her made it harder to breathe.
She’d been coming to the club for months, watching and listening while undercover.
But per club rules, she couldn’t remain a voyeur on the sidelines.
She was selective about who she played with.
She’d experienced a flogger and the prickling, tingling sensation of the violet wand, but she’d never been over a man’s knee before.
It was intimate in a way she hadn’t expected. That it was Rhys made it more so.
Two more swats connected. Not his hand this time but the paddle. The sound was more of a thwap than a crack. The tingling warmth it created felt surprisingly… pleasant.
He paused, gliding the smooth leather over her skin. “Too much?”
“No,” she whispered, shocked that she didn’t want him to stop. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
Four rapid thwaps followed. “Try again,” he directed.
It took her a second to understand. No big surprise, given the circumstances. Then she recalled—this was practice. “No, Master Lucien.”
“Much better.”
The paddle fell several more times, heat building until the fire on her backside rivaled the burn between her thighs. Then it stopped. His hand returned, cool and soothing, stroking lightly. She nearly melted and had to bite her lip to keep from moaning.
Being with him like this brought her back to their scene together.
There hadn’t been spanking or the impact play that so many at the club enjoyed.
She understood why, now. Instead, there had been the thrill of the taboo, of him taking control, of her surrender.
There had been pleasure too, more intense than she’d known with anyone else.
“This little session served two purposes. You learned what to expect, and I learned how far I can push you without you giving us away.” As he rubbed, further stoking the fire, he said softly, “I’ll be careful with you, Gaby.
Camille wouldn’t have a safeword, but you will.
Or a signal, at least. Grip my leg, dig in if you need to stop, and I’ll know. Is that clear?”
She nodded, her reply as unsteady as she was. “Yes, Master Lucien.”
For a long, unbearable moment, Rhys didn’t move except for his thumb tracing small circles on her hip. She was almost certain he didn’t do it to arouse her, but heaven help her, it did.
“Sit up,” he murmured at last.
She pushed to her feet. Again, she misunderstood, surprised when he guided her astride his lap, her body completely open to him. When his hands slid up her thighs, for a split second, she forgot how to inhale. An aroused whimper escaped her.
“You can’t act startled, or as though this is new to you.” His voice took on a rougher edge when he added, “As an art collector, álvarez notices detail.”
His thumbs moved higher, gliding over the wetness on her inner thighs. He now knew the state of her arousal. She should have been mortified, but her lashes fell, and she bit her lip, close to coming apart.
“Eyes on me.”
Somehow, she managed to look at him, instantly falling under the hypnotic force of his gaze. Possession gleamed, steel more than blue, and a desire she’d dreamed of since destroying what they had begun to build.
“You’re taking to this better than I expected,” he stated, not holding back. “Maybe too well for an unwilling muse. Remember. Lucien chose Camille, and she submits because she has no other choice.”
Gaby flushed. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t expect it either. Maybe if you didn’t touch me there,” she said, breathless and trembling, her body rebelling at the prospect of him actually stopping.
“Blackwood would touch you whenever and however he wanted to.” As if to prove it, one hand slid upward over her belly, cupping a breast, his slightly rough thumb sweeping again, this time over her nipple.
A strangled sound escaped her as she teetered on the edge.
It brought him back to the reason they were there. His hands retreated to her waist, a neutral area.
“Gaby,” he said, her name stripped of every pretense.
“I didn’t plan to take it that far,” he said tightly.
“But it’s another lesson learned. You’re very sensitive.
A well-trained slave only comes if and when her master permits it.
If that happens during the mission, as Blackwood, I would be expected to discipline you. ”
His eyes dipped to her mouth. She leaned in for the kiss she hoped for, and craved. Their breaths mingled, and her nipples grazed his chest.
Rhys’s eyes darkened, and his voice was like gravel. “If we don’t stop here, I won’t be able to.”
“I don’t want you to stop,” she whispered before she could think.
Every muscle in Rhys’s body went rigid. He tipped his forehead to hers. “I thought he’d be the one to test me. But it’s you. You’re lethal.”
“Or maybe, just out of practice.” She dared to lean closer, hoping…
His fingers slid into her hair, angling her head just so, and his breath brushed her lips.
“Hate to interrupt.”
The moment shattered. They both looked toward the door. A man and a woman stood peering in. He looked faintly annoyed; her eyes glittered with anticipation.
“We reserved the room at ten,” the man said as he pointedly glanced at his watch. “And it’s fifteen after.”
Rhys straightened, composure snapping firmly into place. “We’re wrapping up now. Give us a minute.”
His calm, authoritative tone left no room for debate.
When the couple retreated, he said to her, “Up. Dress. Now.”
She rose, unsteady. He stood too, adjusting his shirt, collecting himself with impressive speed, though she saw the tension in his jaw.
Suddenly, he stepped closer, so close she swayed.
“Tonight was for the mission,” he insisted. A tortured beat followed his declaration. “But God help me, I’m starting to forget the difference.”
Her breath caught, wanting him to forget. But he bent and scooped up her dress, pressing it into her hands.
“We’re done for the night,” he rasped.
Clutching her things to her chest, she watched, heart pounding, body still humming as he strode for the door.
“Rhys?”
He didn’t turn.
“This was practice,” he said tightly. “And that’s all it can be. My priority is completing the mission, getting your sister home, and, most of all, keeping you safe while we do it.”
Then he walked away, leaving her aching and more confused than ever about why he was so dead set against them fixing what had gone wrong and moving forward together.
One thing was certain, San José was going to test every restraint they had left.
Whether either of them was ready for it remained to be seen.